


Jedi Night Set Right

by AlternateSequel



Series: A New and Brighter Dawn [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fanart, Kanan Jarrus Lives, Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndulla get married, Post-Star Wars Rebels: Jedi Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternateSequel/pseuds/AlternateSequel
Summary: When Hera Syndulla admits that she loves him, Kanan Jarrus can hardly believe his ears. Standing on the fuel pod at the depot in Lothal, they nearly meet with certain death. But Ezra and Sabine show up just in time to help them hold off the flames while they make a quick exit so they can live out their happily ever after.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Series: A New and Brighter Dawn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772785
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	1. Rescue

If there had ever been a time he’d wished he could gaze into her big green eyes, it was now. Kanan’s mouth trembled into a slight smile as he tried to process what she had just said. “It must be the truth serum talking,” he replied with a shrug.

“No,” she insisted, walking closer. “It’s me, all me.” She slid her hand over his clean-shaven cheek and gave him a warm kiss.

Already, the sound of approaching engines could be heard as their transport arrived.

“Hey, enough of that! Time to go!” Ezra called down from above.

Kanan held Hera’s hand and took a running jump into the hovering vehicle, pulling her along. It had been a wise move, for no sooner had their feet hit the metal of the floor, than the fuel pod burst into flames. Kanan nearly jumped down again from the platform to beat the flames back alone with a powerful force push, but Ezra grabbed his shoulder insistently, and together the two, master and apprentice, pushed back at the fire, holding the flames away as Sabine put as much distance between the fuel depot and their transport as possible.

As soon as they were out of danger’s reach, Kanan’s first thought was Hera. She was leaning against the wall, holding one of the support handlebars, but with her wobbly feet, she was in no condition to remain standing. Kanan offered a supporting arm, which she gratefully accepted. As he moved his arm to support her back, he could feel as her lekku, which had previously hung limply, moved to curl around one another at the ends – a subtle sign language gesture that she really, truly loved him. His heart instantly warmed.

“Your lightsaber,” she remembered, speaking in a thickly accented voice.

Kanan rubbed her back reassuringly. “I’d say the trade was still in my favor,” he smiled.

Hera didn’t respond. Kanan tapped her shoulder gently at first, then insistently.

“I’m . . . tired,” she finally whispered.

Kanan caught her just as she lost her footing and collapsed in his arms.

***

Two days is enough to try the patience of even the most disciplined Jedi. For Kanan, the time Hera lay unconscious was a living nightmare. He never left her side for more than a couple of minutes at a time and insisted on attending to her every need.

“You don’t suppose we could persuade him that taking a few hours’ break for a nap would benefit Hera as much as himself?” Sabine whispered to Ezra.

“I heard that,” Kanan growled. “You can feel free to bring me some more caf, or leave us be, take your pick.”

“Now he’s grumpy as caged lothcat,” Ezra joked, causing Sabine to release an unexpected giggle.

When Zeb and Chopper had met the rescue party, they had been surprised to see Hera’s condition. Hera, always strong, their pilot, their anchor, had been limp in Kanan’s arms as they reentered the Ghost. She’d regained consciousness long enough for Sabine to help her out of the jail uniform and into a loose, more comfortable outfit – a simple red dress and lightweight headwrap.

“Wish Kanan could see her now,” Sabine whispered to Ezra as they retreated to obtain the requested caf refill. “The color really suits her.”

Kanan, alone once again, slowly sank to the floor and settled into a state of meditation, trying once again for the focus, the clarity he needed. He could sense Hera’s pain. She was cold, struggling, tormented. Electricity, bolts of electricity. And a battery of deep probing questions. “Where is the base?” “Where are the rebels?” “Where are the jedi?” He could hear her voice now, softly at first, in response. “Kanan! Kanan!” It was louder now, almost a scream. “Kanan is . . . _here!_ ”

“Kanan?”

The jedi jumped as he fell out of his meditation. He wondered if that last word were real or part of the vision.

“Kanan?”

“Hera?” He scrambled to his feet and rushed to her side.

“You came . . . for me!” Hera breathed, obviously relieved.

“Of course I did,” Kanan replied, reaching for her arm.

“But we’re not on . . .” Hera paused, confused. “Where are we?”

“We’re on the Ghost, putting as much distance between the Empire and ourselves as possible.” He opened his mouth to continue, but wasn’t sure how much to say. Hera would not be ready to handle a lot at the moment. Yet he had run through it all in his mind over and over. He bit his tongue. “I hope you’re feeling better now?”

“I . . . I remember the . . . the _pain_ ,” Hera emphasized, “but . . . it’s gone now. It’s really nothing.”

Kanan could feel her shrug. She started to move, and he stopped her.

“You’re the strongest woman I know,” he admitted. “But you’ve been unconscious for two days. The medical droid calculated a gradual recovery path.”

“That can’t be right.” Hera sat upright now and stretched her shoulders. “I feel fine. Besides, now I’m back, I have a cargo mission to complete.”

“The cargo run will have to wait. It’s going to be all the Ghost can do to keep off the Empire’s radar for the moment,” Kanan countered. “You have valuable intel, Hera. Few have been as deep inside this imperial facility as you. This could be our chance to formulate a better plan.”

Hera was silent for a moment. When she spoke, it was somewhat hesitantly. “I’m not quite . . . _ready_ to think about that right now. It’s . . . too painful.” Her accent was coming back as it did when she was tired, stressed, or emotional. Perhaps she was all three this time.

“I understand,” Kanan replied, beginning to worry again. “Look, Hera,” he began cautiously, “a lot happened _recent—_ I want you to promise me something.”

“Promise . . . _what_?”

“Promise me Hera that we _will_ talk.” One would truly have had to be blind to honestly state that his milky white eyes were devoid of emotion then.

“Tomorrow evening at nineteen-hundred hours in the dining hall,” Hera promised.


	2. Cargo Run

Kanan was not the only one who was delighted at Hera’s recovery. Ezra and Zeb gave her a warm welcome, then resumed their normal bickering with Chopper. Sabine shed a few happy tears and found the recovery of her friend was the inspiration for a lovely piece of art that now adorned the hallway. The painting featured Hera with a bright smile as she soared through the air on one of the gliders the crew had made for the rescue. Zeb gave an approving grunt as he passed the artwork on his way to meet Kanan in the mechanical room.

“We already know something’s up with you and Hera,” Zeb accused Kanan, upon meeting him.

Kanan opened his mouth to retort something sarcastic, but held his tongue. There was no use in denying it anymore. After all, when he got his answer the following evening, they would all eventually figure it out. “I’m going to ask Hera to marry me,” he said simply.

Zeb coughed. “Oh? Only just now?”

Kanan elbowed him sharply. “Hey, I need to find a couple of wedding bands in case she says ‘yes.’”

“In _case_? If you’re not sure, better borrow a couple of metal washers from the utility closet. Less expensive.”

Kanan gasped. “I only mean I don’t want to assume. I’ll trade some extra supplies at our next fuel sto —” The sound of footsteps could suddenly be heard from behind. “I hear you there, Sabine! This is a strange request, but . . .”

“Ring size. Check. I’ve got you covered.” She rummaged in the toolbox for a minute and finally found the bolt size gauge. She disappeared as quickly as she had come.

“How did she . . ?”

“Girls!” grunted Zeb.

Kanan’s next task was to find Ezra. “When we near the next fuel stop,” he instructed, “I need you to make sure Hera doesn’t leave the Ghost. Zeb, Sabine, and I have this one covered. Oh, and keep Chopper out of trouble.”

Ezra’s smile conveyed his amusement, though it was missed by Kanan. “Shall I tell her you didn’t think she was well enough to come?” he asked innocently.

“You know as well as I do that would be the surest way of tempting her to sneak out,” Kanan remarked.

Ezra laughed. “Don’t take too long picking out the rings,” he teased, “or I might be the one who’s hard to keep onboard.”

***

“Hera, I’m worried that my art hurt Kallus’ feelings the other day,” Sabine sighed, playing with the bolt size gauge artfully, as though it were simply the nearest object she had picked up to fidget with.

“Why do you say that?” Hera was fully alert now, and interested in any conversation she could get out of her younger friend. It had been a long time – too long – since they had been able to sit down and talk. It was certainly frustrating that the medical droid had ordered bed rest, but Hera would not let the time go to waste.

“It was a while ago, actually, when I did the artwork,” Sabine explained, slipping her finger by way of suggestion through one of the larger holes on the gauge and spinning the light sheet of metal around and around. “It was one of Zeb’s rough days – I think a birthday or anniversary or something. He never talks about his past, but I can kind of tell. So I made him a card with a cartoon that made fun of Kallus.”

Hera smiled. “Kallus is pretty thick-skinned. It must have been quite the cartoon.”

“It was . . . not my best work, but it got a laugh,” Sabine admitted. “Anyway, Kallus found it during his last visit. I don’t think he got the humor of it all. I barely rescued it – I’ll bring it and show you.” She casually dropped the metal gauge she had been holding on the counter right beside Hera’s bed. Hopefully she would take the bait.

Hera, used to keeping busy, happened to be pretty restless at the moment, and fell straight into the trap. When Sabine returned with the humorous notecard, Hera was already fidgeting with the tool and completely distracted by the conversation. It was strange how, in a matter of days, she had almost forgotten how to laugh. What a relief to be back with family again! She did not notice how intently Sabine was watching her hands as she absent-mindedly slipped her slender green finger through one of the holes on the bolt gauge. It was such a good fit, that Hera had to give it a little extra tug to loosen it again.

“Oh!” exclaimed Sabine, glancing at the time. “I told Ezra I’d help him with the power couplings, and I almost completely forgot! Would you guard this for me till I can get it to Zeb?” she requested, handing Hera the notecard. “I wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands again.”

Hera nodded and accepted the artwork, exchanging it for the tool. But before meeting Ezra as discussed, Sabine ran the required information straight to Kanan.

***

Ezra relaxed on a bench in the dining area, back flat on the padded surface and knees up with a datapad propped against his leg. He watched the news, hoping for something interesting, but he was already tuned out from sheer boredom.

Hera had persuaded the young jedi that an extended stay in bed would hamper rather than help her speedy recovery, so she sat further down the bench eating a nutrition bar and sipping some tea.

“Did Kanan say how soon he would return?” she asked, a barely perceptible hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Well, Sabine said she needs some more art supplies.” Ezra skillfully changed the focus. “She’s very particular about color and brush type, so I think the landing party may be gone a while. But to be fair, she did use up the last of her red and black paint on Chopper’s last imperial disguise.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should comm Zeb with the items on my repairs list,” Hera suggested. “Might as well make it a full trip while we’re at it.”

Ezra’s surprise was rather apparent. Surely Hera would be anxious to keep this stop short. She usually was.

“Oh, and would you care to bring my datapad?” Hera asked. “I haven’t had a moment to catch up on my messages since before the blockade run.” She skillfully avoided mentioning her crash landing on Lothal that had led to this whole situation.

“Okay,” Ezra reluctantly agreed, sitting up slowly. “I’ll be right back. Uh . . . don’t start the chores without me.”

Hera rolled her eyes. “I won’t.”

Ezra was confused. Hera usually left her datapad in the cockpit, but it wasn’t there. Nor was it misplaced in the engine room as it occasionally had been. And it couldn’t have been in her quarters, as she had just been there and would have brought it with – oh no! Ezra followed his instinct and rushed back to the dining area. Sure enough, it was empty! His next thought was the Phantom, so he took off down the hallway as fast as he could.

As he arrived, Hera was just about to seal the door, but Ezra held it back with his hand and the Force. “Hey, where are you going without me?” he insisted.

“Cargo run,” Hera calmly replied.

“I’ll just add it to the list for Zeb,” Ezra offered.

“No, this is different. Now that you know, get aboard; we have to be quick.”

“What’s going on?” Ezra stayed planted where he was, arms folded, refusing to move.

“It’s for Kanan,” Hera explained, her eyes sparkling.

Ezra needed no further persuasion.


	3. Mysterious Disappearance

“You have decided then, at last?” Cham Syndulla’s voice crackled slightly over the transmission.

Hera coughed slightly. “Yes, I am serious. Father, I’ve been foolish to leave it this long. I almost lost him.”

“My daughter, you are always serious,” Cham mused, his accent thick but his tone affectionate. “I could not be prouder of you for your choice.”

“Father, I wish–” Hera began.

“With the Empire on alert, it is far too dangerous to hold a ceremony on Ryloth. But I admire your determination to keep our traditions alive. Hera, you will find an artisan in the country district about an hour from your fuel stop. Go to the coordinates I’m sending you and tell him you’re here to redeem the offer he gave his old friend Cham back in the Clone Wars. His craftsmanship never disappoints.”

“Thank you, Father,” Hera smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”

***

Kanan examined the rings one last time by running his fingers over them, then shut the hinged lid of the box carefully and slid it into his pocket. “Mission accomplished,” he stated. “We’d best get back to the ship before Hera gets restless.” His voice was deep and serious, his mind obviously back on the Ghost.

“Yeah, well Hera has ordered so many supplies that we might have to make two trips!” Sabine grumbled.

“Not this guy,” Zeb replied, arriving from behind pushing a large hovering cart. It was already loaded with half of the supplies.

“Good.” Sabine nodded approvingly. “We could use a little time saver, or Hera will suspect something is up. I didn’t know _Kanan_ was going to be so picky.”

Kanan didn’t view it that way. He had approached picking out wedding bands in much the same way as he had sought his kyber crystal. It had called to him and then he just knew it was right. Though Sabine had been happy to describe all the visual details to Kanan, he had finally selected a set made of the same metal as his lightsaber, but forged on Ryloth. He could just sense that the purchase was meant to be.

When the group arrived back at the Ghost, Kanan was surprised to be greeted by only Chopper. However, it was just as well, if it meant that Hera was resting and Ezra attending to her needs. “Spectre Six, come in!” Kanan commed. There was no response at first, and Kanan adjusted his wrist comm, hoping it was okay. He tried again. “Spectre Six?”

The response came in somewhat staticky.

“Hey, Kanan, what’s up?”

“We’re back,” he replied. “We could use a hand with unloading.”

Another pause. “Uhhh, negative, Spectre One. Got to supervise the . . . er . . . recovery process.”

Kanan frowned. “Sabine, go check on Hera. Zeb, let’s get these up the ramp, and Chopper, you go get Ezra out here to help.”

Chopper chuckled in a series of droid beeps as he rolled away.

***

“Kanan will know we’re missing.” Hera shifted nervously from foot to foot.

 _Yeah, she’s not resting at all_ thought Ezra. He knew Kanan would be annoyed that he’d altered his mission of keeping Hera on the Ghost, yet he could not resist a smile as he saw Hera’s surprise taking shape under the artisan’s hands.

“Art takes time,” the local assured them. “Don’t rush me.”

Hera sat down on the nearby bench and let her head sink into her hands. She closed her eyes, searching for the patience she needed. Instead, painful images began to return to her mind. Needles of electricity spiked towards her and zapped through her body, causing deep, tingling pain. A woman’s sharp features faded in and out, but the glowering spiteful eyes did not leave. They burned into Hera’s mind and probed once more asking the same, terrifying questions. “Where is the base?” “Where are the rebels?” “Where is the jedi?” Kanan! They were looking for Kanan!

Hera was surprised when she opened her eyes suddenly and saw herself back in her present surroundings. Where was she? On a bench in the artisan’s shop, sitting next to Ezra. Ezra? Oh yes, she was no longer on Lothal in Pryce’s torture chamber. What a relief! But something must have just happened, because Ezra looked so concerned and he had a hand on her shoulder.

“Hera? Are you okay?”

Hera shrugged. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

Ezra shook his head. He knew better than to bring up the topic of torture, even though he sensed that was exactly what she had suddenly remembered. “We’ll get you back to the ship soon,” he said. “Our friend is almost done with the project.”

***

Kanan liked to put some distance between himself and the last fuel stop whenever possible, just to make it harder for the Empire to trace, should they happen to have followed his trail. However, Hera being the planner of the two, Kanan decided to consult with her before choosing the next destination, because full tank or not, fuel was best spent going in a useful direction.

Chopper nearly tripped up the jedi in the doorway.

“Not cool, Chop,” Kanan barked. “If you’re bored, you can help Zeb unpack the crates.”

Chopper launched into a bunch of chatter about the supply run. Had they encountered a new strut for him? How about the extra power cell he had requested? The droid, however, remained fixed where he was.

Kanan resorted to a light kick, which resulted in an offended screech from the irritating droid as he finally rolled away and cleared the doorway.

“Hera?” Kanan called softly as he stepped through the doorway into the dining area where he had left her with Ezra. Perhaps she had been sensible and was getting some rest. He walked through the room and down the hall towards Hera’s quarters. As he approached the door, he found it was shut, so he knocked. There was no response. It was funny that Ezra should be missing too, especially when he’d said he was looking after Hera. But Ezra’s quarters were also empty, except for a pile of discarded clothing on the floor that Kanan inadvertently stepped into as he searched for his missing apprentice. He made a disgusted noise as he kicked the garments aside. Jedi in the temple had been expected to be orderly. Young Caleb Dume would never have gotten away with Ezra’s sloppy habits.

So where were Hera and Ezra? Surely Ezra would be capable of keeping Hera safe on the ship for a simple few hours! Kanan tried to reach Hera through his wrist comm, but he got no response. Despite his attempts to focus and stay calm, Kanan began to feel a surge of a very unpleasant emotion. Hera had left. He could sense her absence through the Force. Perhaps she had not intended to keep her promise after all. It was as he had feared – she was not ready to commit. She was an independent woman, strong enough to stand on her own. Had he misinterpreted the way the Force seemed to pull him ever closer to her? Was this all wrong? Kanan knew better than to give way to feelings, but he could not deny their existence.


	4. Reunited Again

Hera was clearly in a hurry. “Ezra, get the engines running so we can leave as soon as the artisan is finished,” she instructed. “Also, I need you to think of a good excuse for Kanan. I’ve ignored two of his comms now, and he’s going to worry if we don’t come back with a response.”

Ezra knew better than to argue with Hera. He did as instructed and boarded the Phantom, getting it ready to depart. He decided it would be better to touch base with Chopper first, to find out how much the others knew.

Chopper’s intel was disappointing. Kanan was already fully appraised of Ezra and Hera’s absence and had sent both Zeb and Sabine to conduct a thorough sweep of the area. He had apparently locked himself in his quarters to meditate.

“Great,” Ezra groaned. “I’m going to be toast when Kanan finds out I switched sides.” He ended the transmission to Chopper and hesitated before beginning a new one. But before he hit the button, he received an incoming beep. Cautiously, he answered.

“Ezra,” Ryder’s voice came through the speaker, “The Empire is on their way. I overheard an imperial transmission that our secret intelligence deciphered. They were able to trace the Ghost’s last fuel stop through an imperial spy. He appears to have sighted Kanan – in all places – at the town jewel—”

“On it!” Ezra interrupted, “I’ll let the others know we need to get the Ghost moving.”

Hera had walked in during the last part of the transmission, carrying a covered crate in her arms.

Ezra leapt to take the burden, but Hera would not release it. She walked gently across the floor and set the crate with care into a safe compartment. Only then did she spring into action. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

“We . . . that is, the Ghost . . . has been tracked!” Ezra explained.

Hera slid into the pilot’s seat and began to maneuver the ship out of parking.

“And?”

“The Empire –” Ezra continued.

“Well, don’t tell me any more,” Hera cut in. “Let the others know at once. They have to get out of the system at right away.

Ezra began the transmission. “Spectre One, come in!”

The reply was almost instant.

“Where _are_ you?” Kanan demanded, his voice stern.

“No time right now,” Ezra replied hurriedly. “There’s an emergency. Ryder informed me you were sighted by an imperial spy.”

“Copy. The Empire will be here any moment. Wherever you are,” Kanan instructed, “I want you and Hera to stay put, where it’s safe. I mean it this time!”

“What does he mean, _this time_?” Hera asked.

***

“Chopper, get us ready for takeoff,” Sabine instructed.

The droid gave a chirp of agreement. In Hera’s absence he was usually willing to take orders from Sabine. Ever since their experience together rescuing the binary box droid, the two had built an especially strong rapport.

“I only wish we had time to leave a present for those imperials,” Sabine mused. “It’s been a while since I’ve rigged one of my paint bombs.”

“No time,” growled Zeb.

“Sabine, get us out of here,” Kanan instructed.

Sabine maneuvered the ship away from the landing platform.

“We have to get to hyperspace,” Kanan decided.

“What about Hera and Ezra?” Sabine worried.

“They’ll be safer where they are.”

Sabine glanced at Kanan’s face, but could not catch any sign of emotion. His mouth was firm and resolute. As she left the atmosphere, she began to prep for the hyperspace jump. Chopper began to scan for additional imperial ships. He informed them in his usual matter-of-fact tone that at least thirty tie fighters were fast approaching.

“Now,” shouted Kanan.

Sabine made the jump. The crew sat in silence as they slipped quickly through hyperspace. When it was time, Sabine moved the controls and they came to a quick stop in an empty portion of space. The Empire would not have had time to lock on to them and Sabine breathed a sigh of relief.

***

“What does he mean, _this time_?” Hera repeated her question.

“Uhhh . . . let’s just say he wanted to give you some recovery time.” Ezra shot Hera a nervous glance.

Hera sighed and let her head fall against her hand. She didn’t say anything for a moment. “I can’t lose him to the Empire,” she whispered.

“You won’t,” Ezra reassured her.

Hera attempted to initiate a new transmission, but there was an extra layer of static and a strange buzzing noise. Hera switched the dial off quickly. “The Empire has tapped into our signal,” she exclaimed.

Ezra adjusted a few knobs and tried again, but the results were the same. “The Empire will know the Ghost’s new location if we send or receive any transmissions from them,” he said. Reluctantly, he turned off and disconnected the apparatus so that they could not be reached.

“You’re right, and I’ve seen what the Empire does to prisoners,” Hera said soberly. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to block some memory or emotion. It was only a momentary lapse, and then the determined Hera returned.

“We’re going to find the Ghost, but I’ll need you to remember that jedi trick you used on the prison records a while back,” Hera decided.

“But I thought we were supposed to sta—”

“I have a promise to keep,” Hera cut him off. “Now, if you listen to the Force, will you be able to pick out a system from this Star Chart?”

Ezra nodded and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and stretched his hand out over the Star Chart Hera had unfolded and laid in front of him. “I can feel it . . .” his hand moved slightly, “the Force is strong right . . . here. I’m sure of it.” He opened his eyes and examined the part of the map his forefinger now touched. “Mon Calamari.” What on earth would Kanan be after there?”

“The Rebellion hasn’t had any missions in that region lately,” Hera mused. “It would be a sensible choice. All right, we’ll follow your intuition, and when we get closer, we’ll have to think like Kanan.”

Ezra groaned.

“Trust me,” Hera smiled. “I know him pretty well.”

***

Evening having approached, Kanan went about his usual routine, leaving Chopper to maintain course. The jedi ate a light meal then took only a few minutes in the refresher. He could feel his beard beginning to grow back and he smiled for a moment because he knew Hera would like that. Then the smile disappeared when he remembered that he had no idea where she was. He had tried to contact the Phantom several times, but the transmission would not go through. Had they been captured? The thought made him sick. He knew he was the reason for her disappearance.

Kanan tried to fall asleep, but he couldn’t rest for more than half an hour at a time. Concern for Hera’s wellbeing both kept him awake and exhausted him at the same time. To make matters worse, he could hear faint noises at the end of the hallway, and they were getting louder. Zeb was shouting at Chopper, who replied back with a steady stream of insults.

“That’s not fair, Zeb!” shouted Sabine, “he couldn’t have stopped them. Someone had to watch the ship.”

“Droid could have _warned_ us,” Zeb growled.

“He’s always sided with Hera, not Kanan,” Sabine countered. “I’ll bet she smelled a proposal coming and got as far away as she could.”

“I can hear you,” snapped Kanan through the walls which were apparently not sound-proof.

Sure enough, that silenced them. The group could be heard shuffling to another room.

Kanan sighed. It was going to be a long night.

***

Kanan sat in the co-pilot’s seat as usual, sipping a cup of caf. Sabine sat to his left, filling in for Hera. Kanan remembered all the times he had used to steal sideways glances at the beautiful Twi’lek as she flew her ship. She had an air of confident grace. Sometimes he would make a lame joke to see if he could get a smile out of her. It rarely worked, but when it did, her smiling face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The sweet memories had never faded, and Kanan knew he would always cling to them, even if Hera had decided to ghost him.

Sabine interrupted his thoughts with a wild cry of surprise. “A ship just came out of hyperspace!” she shouted.

“Is it imperial?” Kanan jumped out of his chair, gripping the ledge in front of him, but not in time to prevent his caf from lurching from the cup and spilling on the floor.

“No, no it’s not imperial – I can’t see yet if it’s . . .”

“It’s Hera,” Kanan interrupted. “And Ezra. I can feel it.”

Kanan rushed from the cockpit leaving Sabine to change course to meet the shuttle.

In the hallway, Kanan took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. He was going to act normal. Remember what Caleb Dume had been taught – not to listen to his emotions. He listened instead to the sounds around him as he calmly walked towards the place where the Phantom would dock. He could hear its approach, then its engines slow, and finally the noise of the docking clamp. The door opened.

“Ezra!” called Sabine, “Hera! So glad you’re home! Whatever happened?”

Hera gave a soft laugh. “The Empire tapped into our transmitter. We’d have called, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Thanks to Ezra, we found you all right.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Ezra began, “but really the credit goes to Hera. She really thinks like you, Kanan. This side of the planet is the best shielded from the Empire.”

“Kanan!” Hera exclaimed, as if seeing him just then, though really she had been watching him since she stepped off the ship. Without warning, she cut through the welcoming group, ran to the back of the room and threw her arms around the unsuspecting jedi.


	5. Promises

As he slowly recovered from the shock of the unexpected hug, Kanan’s arms moved to return the gesture. “You came back,” he whispered.

Hera’s surprise was evident. “I promised,” she reminded him. “And it’s a promise I intend to keep.” As she released the hug, she grabbed his hand instead and began to lead him down the hallway to the dining area.

Kanan did not bother to remind her that he already knew the way.

Hera shut the door as they entered the dining hall. She and Kanan seated themselves side by side at the table. They were silent for a moment, the only sounds in the room their breathing.

“I owe you an apology,” Hera finally broke the stillness.

 _Oh no,_ thought Kanan, thinking she was about to end it all.

“I’m sorry for worrying you like that,” she continued. “I . . . I know you had my best interests at heart. You always have.”

Kanan placed his hand gently over hers. “I’m just glad you’re back,” he said.

“It’s hard to . . . say,” Hera struggled, “but I have to tell you what happened . . . in the torture chamber.”

“Only if you’re ready,” Kanan cautioned her.

Hera shook her head. “I don’t know how I can come to terms with it all – perhaps I never will – but I keep remembering it in bits and it’s the same questions over and over. ‘Where is the base?’ ‘Where are the rebels?’ And ‘where is the jedi?’”

“I’m not surprised,” Kanan mused. “If you don’t mind my asking, do you think Pryce found anything?”

Hera sighed. “I don’t think so. At least, I hope not. Your arrival certainly interrupted the extraction process. But Kanan – they’re looking for you.”

“That’s nothing new,” he commented.

“But they don’t want to kill you,” she continued. “They want to turn you to the dark side.” She paused, her face full of concern. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know they never could.”

Kanan managed a weak smile. He knew far more of the torture and threats the Empire had to offer jedi than Hera would ever know, but he had no intention of worrying her.

“But I am afraid . . .” Hera admitted “of losing you.”

Kanan thought of a clever remark about the Empire to cheer her up, but he suppressed the urge for a joke. They were beyond that phase. The times they had nearly lost one another were beginning to add up, and he didn’t want to take any more chances. “Hera,” he said seriously, “have you thought about what you’ll do when this war is over?”

“I have.” She knew what she wanted. Why was it so hard to put into words? Was it because her fear that the Empire would rip it all away had left her with little more than a sparkle of hope?

“I’ve thought about where I might go,” Hera began, “but I realized that whether it’s Lothal, Ryloth, or even Coruscant – it would hardly matter. I thought about what I might do – but I realized I’ve known nothing but war and completing the next mission.” She paused for a moment. “But whatever that future is, I’d like to share it with you.”

“Will you marry me, Hera?” Kanan asked quietly.

“Yes, dear, with all my heart!” She followed the promise with a kiss.

It was a moment neither wanted to end, but Chopper, who obviously lacked an understanding of this type of sentiment, interrupted the meeting with a sudden comm informing them of a message from the rebel base.

Hera sighed. “I guess we can’t ignore that,” she reluctantly admitted. “But first we should announce our good news to our crew.” She crossed the room arm in arm with Kanan and swung open the door. To her surprise, the entire crew was already gathered outside.

“Chopper, you shouldn’t have,” hissed Sabine.

“So . . . did she say yes?” Ezra asked.

“Is it not obvious?” Hera leaned towards Kanan to exchange another kiss.

Ezra raised an arm to shield his eyes just in time. “Yeah, okay, yeah . . .”

“Finally!” Sabine squealed. “You’ll let me decorate for the wedding, right? When is the wedding? Can we get fresh flowers from Lothal? I’ve heard they’re great this time of ye—”

“So many questions!” Hera exclaimed. “If you’re going to help with the wedding all the chores will need to be done first.”

The crew scattered like mice. All except for Chopper.

“Okay, what’s the message?” Hera asked.

It was just confirmation that the rebel base had received the Ghost’s location update. Chopper gave the droid equivalent of a laugh.

“You irritating little astromech!” Hera snapped. “Get out of here and make yourself useful.”

When they were alone again, Kanan asked “So where _were_ you and Ezra yesterday?”

Hera laughed. “Come on, I have something to show you.”

Kanan followed Hera’s footsteps to the place where the Phantom was docked. The Twi’lek opened the door and walked inside. Before seating herself across from Kanan, Hera retrieved the crate from storage and pulled off the covering.

“Is this the cargo run you wanted to make?” Kanan queried.

“The very same.” She paused as she found the words to explain the contents of the box. “I’ve told you before that art is very important to Twi’lek culture,” she began.

Kanan nodded. “Like your kalikori. And the mosaics you’ve described that were in your home.”

“Exactly. Well . . . in our culture it’s tradition – in fact, required that before a marriage, a bride shares her family’s art history with her husband-to-be.”

Kanan’s face fell. “You know I can’t—”

Hera stopped him by placing her hand over his. “I’ve thought of that,” she said. She reached into the box and pulled out the first item – a block of wood intricately carved into a picture. She took Kanan’s hand and guided it to the surface. “My family,” she explained. “When I was just a little girl.”

“I . . . thought most of the art of Ryloth was visual,” Kanan commented.

“It is . . . and we would have lost it all in the war, if my father hadn’t archived it all holographically some time back. He sent me the files and I had these made.”

A smile spread over Kanan’s face. “You know, you’re the best, Hera.”

“I try.” She flicked her lekku back over her shoulder and watched for Kanan to make the discovery.

It didn’t take him long. “But there’s four people here,” he mentioned, surprised.

“My baby brother,” Hera replied softly. “Jacen.”

“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Kanan mused.

“It’s still painful,” Hera sighed. “He was so young when the fever broke out, and he was only sick three days before he died. Mother was so heartbroken she couldn’t leave her room for a month.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hera mustered a faint smile, really just to keep herself from getting too deep into those memories. She began to introduce her family to Kanan, one carving at a time. It was a lot of information all at once, but he showed deep interest in each of the pictures. Hera couldn’t help but smile when she thought of the way her father had labelled Kanan as “Hera’s Jedi” years ago, a while before Hera had even realized she had feelings for him. Hera realized now that Cham had accepted Kanan as part of the family long ago.

The box was almost empty. Just one more carving. As Hera pulled it from the crate, she gave a little gasp. “I didn’t know this picture was in the archive – Ezra must have tampered with the files!”

Kanan laughed as his fingers ran across the wood carving and he realized that the person on the right was no Twi’lek, but rather himself, standing beside Hera.

“This is my favorite now,” Hera admitted, running her own hand along the carved surface so she could experience it with Kanan.

“Mine too.”


	6. A Wedding

Kanan and Hera’s wedding was an interesting blend of tradition, Sabine’s artistic flair, and their own little culture they had built on the Ghost. Of course, it was held aboard the ship, and though the guests were limited, they were glad that Cham, Gobi, and Numa had travelled from Ryloth for the occasion.

Although Hera herself would not have minded wearing a flight suit for the ceremony, Sabine insisted on helping her choose a far more elegant outfit. Hera looked like a princess with her long white dress and silk headwrap. Kanan wore, for the first time in years, traditional jedi robes. It seemed appropriate, somehow, even though the Order would not have approved of the marriage. He had a new lightsaber clipped to his belt to replace the one he had lost on Lothal.

Cham Syndulla officiated, incorporating traditions from both cultures. One could easily tell how much he was enjoying this event, and when he introduced the new Mr. and Mrs. Jarrus at the end, he definitely shed a happy tear, although no one caught it, but Hera.

For once, Zeb had harnessed his creative rather than his destructive side, and had made a wonderful cake garnished with meiloorun.

Kanan had never cared for dancing, but it was tradition on Ryloth, so he participated. After all, how could he complain, when he had one arm around Hera and her hand in the other?

“Finally,” Cham Syndulla could be heard from across the room as he spoke with some of the guests. “Though I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren next.”

***

Life went back to almost normal. At least, for Spectres three through six. The first two were living in a dream.

Their first assignment after the wedding was on Mandalore. The Wren clan had obtained some valuable data that could help crack imperial code, but were so occupied with internal matters that they called for assistance in its safe delivery.

Hera and Kanan were enjoying their morning caf in the cockpit when the transmission came in.

“We have a mission for Captain Syndulla,” Ursa Wren greeted them.

“I’m afraid we left her behind in orbit over the Lothal system,” Hera answered, a smile in her voice.

Ursa’s horror could almost be sensed in the silence that followed. “You . . . what? Am I not speaking with Hera?”

“Captain Hera Jarrus. How can I assist you?” Hera laughed.

It took Ursa a moment. “Finally!” she exclaimed. “Congratulations!”

In exchange for the valuable information, the Ghost crew were to loan two of its members, Sabine and Zeb to help Ursa sort out some clan differences. When Hera broke the news, the two were enthusiastic, but complaints could still be heard in the back.

“They’ll need a jedi too, of course,” Ezra moaned. “I’m not that bad with a jetpack, and besides, who’s got a better collection of disguises?” He gave a wide, hopeful smile.

Hera shook her head. “I think Sabine needs some time with her family, and Zeb has more experience with this type of situation than either of you from his time in the Lasan High Honor Guard. When we reach our base with the code information, I’m certain we’ll have another assignment for you.”

Ezra folded his arms, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Patience,” Kanan reminded him, sensing his apprentice’s frustration.

***

“I brought you guys caf,” Ezra announced, barely knocking on the cockpit door before entering.

“Um, thank you Ezra,” Hera answered.

He handed each a cup of caf, but did not leave.

“Trying to get permission for another daring mission?” Hera guessed.

“Like he ever asks for permission.” Kanan’s eyeroll was in his voice, if not his face.

“No . . . just enjoying the new day,” Ezra smiled, parking himself between Kanan and Hera’s seats, an elbow on the backrest of each.

“You’ve finished your chores awfully early,” Hera commented. “Are you sure you checked all the conduits?”

“Every last one.”

“Hmm. Seeing you’re up bright and early today, and Sabine usually updates the ammunition count . . .”

“Chopper did that,” Ezra supplied.

“You got him to do a chore for you?” Hera was incredulous.

“Oh, he doesn’t trust me,” Ezra frowned. “Something about droids being more accurate.”

Hera was about to think of another task to keep Ezra occupied, but an incoming transmission ended the peaceful morning she and Kanan had planned.

“It’s . . . Tseebo!” Ezra exclaimed, when Hera pressed the button to answer.

“Ezra Bridger,” Tseeboo greeted, “what a pleasure to see you. Jedi Kanan and pilot Hera, we need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” Kanan asked.

“The village where I stay – it has been bombed,” his rather mechanical voice stated. “People are dying. The Empire is looking for –” The transmission cut out suddenly.

“You were looking for a mission?” Kanan asked.

“Tseebo needs _all_ of us,” Ezra insisted. “The Empire has probably tracked down his location and won’t stop tearing the city apart till they’ve caught or killed him.”

Hera programmed the controls to change course. “Hang on Tseebo, we’re on our way!”

***

The place was burning. As if the bomb hadn’t wrought enough destruction, Stormtroopers went from building to building pressing families from their homes, merchants from their storefronts, and laborers from their work. Nothing was left unexamined, and when a building had been combed to the bucket-heads’ satisfaction, they sent it up in flames, just to be sure. If a search had ever been conducted more thoroughly – well, it just hadn’t.

An outer-rim village built around the farming community, the place’s livelihood had long been destroyed in the raid. The fields were a singed dark color, and amidst the charred, tangled, gnarled remains of the once productive fields and vineyards, families huddled, small, scared, and crying.

One little boy, a red twi’lek who could not have been more than about five years old sat alone under the remains of a burnt tree. He hugged his knees, a small plush animal wedged between his knees and chest.

Hera, who was several yards away holding off the Stormtroopers with her blaster until a family of five could escape to safety, noticed the boy out of the corner of her eye. When she had cleared the last of the enemies, she stepped quickly over to the frightened child and bent over to put out her hand.

His eyes searched hers for a moment before he relaxed and accepted her help. “W. . . where’s mama?” he cried in Ryl.

“I . . . I’ll see what I can do,” Hera answered, trying not to sound concerned. She felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest; the child’s plight had gone right to her heart. She instinctively picked him up and carried him the rest of the way across the charred field. He was heavier than she had expected, and she set him down quickly once he was on the other side. “What does your mama look like?” Hera gasped, as she took a breath.

“She’s red,” the child explained, “like me.”

It was good timing, as the mother, a twi’lek of the rare skin tone her son had just described, arrived around the corner of a toppled cottage. She was chained and the metal links gave her room only to step so far from the house, but her son closed the rest of the distance in seconds.

“Jack!” she exclaimed, her arms closing around him, the chains rattling as she did so.

“Hold still,” Hera instructed, and she sent a bullet into the stone that held the last of the metal links, freeing the prisoner.

The mother gave a gasp of a relief and allowed Hera to remove the rest of the restraints.

“You’re free,” Hera half whispered, lapsing into her accent. “The hill country is good. You’ll find good people there.” She motioned with her free hand in that direction.

“Thank you!” Jack’s mother breathed. “How can I ever repay you?”

“Don’t,” Hera answered. “Just raise your son to believe that Ryloth is never truly free till its people are no longer sold into slavery.”


	7. Mysterious Illness

Hera scrolled through the information on her datapad. Mostly statistics, mostly not in her favor. She didn’t know why, but the incident in the burning village had gotten her thinking.

Ever since Tseebo had been rescued and the Ghost crew had returned to Mandalore to pick up Sabine and Zeb, Hera had busied herself with mission after mission for the Rebellion, and she spent the little free time she had with Kanan. If it had been difficult to find time for herself before, the difficulty had certainly doubled since marriage. She didn’t particularly mind, because she didn’t enjoy spending a lot of time in her own head, and when she did her thoughts risked wandering to the past, a place she hated to dwell. But this morning, Hera didn’t feel particularly well. Her idea was beginning to press on her mind, and uncomfortable as it made her, she knew she couldn’t hold it off any longer.

As Hera browsed through the records, she felt a surge of disappointment. She had always known the slavery of her people was a terrible problem throughout the galaxy, but had never seen the numbers before. If anything, they had soared since the Empire had begun to control more and more systems.

Hera was grateful that her father had always fought fiercely against slavery. Many of the twi’lek people believed slavery to be an upgrade from living their lives in poverty, others a sad reality, but one that could not be fought against. Though Jack and his mother had been the only twi’lek she had met in that small, outer-rim village, she knew situations like theirs were all too common. Children like Jack grew up in slavery, knowing that to be what was normal, what was _expected_. And though her people were among the most enslaved in the galaxy, they were not the only victims of this sad trade situation.

Hera almost didn’t notice Kanan reentering the room, apparently in search of something he had misplaced.

“You’re still not up?” his surprise was evident.

“Yeah . . . got a bit carried away with research.”

“Oh?”

“Didn’t get far,” Hera tried to blow it off. She moved as if to get up, but gave a short moan.

“You okay?” Kanan’s face filled with concern.

“I’m fine.” Hera squeezed her eyes shut and made herself sit up, even though she was overcome with sudden nausea. She hadn’t guessed that revisiting her people’s plight would affect her so strongly.

“Hera, I can tell when something’s wrong,” Kanan insisted.

“I can’t stop thinking about what happened in the village,” Hera admitted.

“That was a month ago,” Kanan mused, rubbing his beard with one hand thoughtfully, “but I don’t believe we’ve talked about that.”

“I just needed some time to process,” Hera sighed. “We’ve been on so many rescue missions, but this one just felt – different.” She paused, trying think of how to explain it without triggering the release of her pent-up emotions. “There was a little boy, a twi’lek, only about 5 years old. He couldn’t find his mother. I know what that feels like.”

Kanan sat down beside his wife and put an arm around her comfortingly. “How old were you when . . . when you lost your mother?”

“I was nine,” Hera remembered, blinking a couple of times to hold back the moisture in her eyes. She changed the subject again. “But little Jack was so young. And his mother – we found her alive – was in chains. I just wish I could free all of my people like I was able to free her.”

“You’re thinking of joining your father’s group of rebels again?” Kanan asked.

“No.” Hera shook her head. “But I’d like to end the slave trade. Just as much as I want to beat the Empire. But I’m going to finish this war first, because with the Empire around, we’re all slaves.” She sighed. “Liberating the slaves of Ryloth may not be my job. But if I can point the next leader in the right direction, I’ll do it, gladly.”

“If there’s anyone who can inspire leaders and bring the best out in others, it’s you, Hera.” Kanan gave her a sincere kiss. “I know you will pick the best leader for the job.”

***

Hera did not feel particularly inspirational when she woke up the next morning. If anything she felt worse. She woke up before Kanan and would have started her day, but she was feeling nauseous again. She tried to will the situation out of her mind and go back to sleep, but now she was wide awake. To keep her thoughts off Ryloth for the moment, she reviewed her checklist for the day and puzzled over the problem of fitting in the chores she had left unfinished the previous day. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten to turn down the volume on her datapad, and she accidentally woke Kanan.

“Please don’t tell me I slept through the alarm,” Kanan groaned, turning over slowly.

“Oh, no, sorry love, I just woke up early,” Hera sighed, rather preferring the idea of having slept through the alarm, as she was exhausted.

Kanan was wide awake now. He sat up and reached for Hera’s arm, but found the datapad first. “Oh, Hera, you’re always looking after others. Please tell me you’re not worrying again.”

“I . . . I just haven’t been feeling so well,” Hera admitted, rising slowly, but feeling sure that it was only a matter of time before she vomited what was left in her system of last night’s dinner.

“You weren’t feeling well yesterday,” Kanan reminded her. “What’s wrong?”

Hera stood up, but just felt so dizzy that she sat down again immediately. She closed her eyes for a moment before answering. “My stomach – ” she moaned.

It was a mercy that Kanan had Jedi reflexes and that there was a trash receptacle nearby, or the mattress would have been covered with the previous evening’s meal. When he was sure the vomiting had ceased, he placed a hand gently on Hera’s stomach, as if to ensure she was fine.

“I’m okay now,” Hera whispered hoarsely, “thank you dear.” But as she watched, Kanan’s face changed from relief to one of – was it concern or surprise? “Kanan?”

“I really think we should get medical help,” he said.

“What? No, it’s just a stomach bug!” Hera tried to sit up again, but stopped when she felt the nausea starting to return. She contented herself with folding her arms obstinately.

“Trust me,” he requested. “You’re always helping others. Is it so bad to accept help once in a while?”

Hera sighed, the line of her mouth bent with reluctance. “Okay, but we still have a delivery of supplies to pick up from Alderaan.”

“We’ll stop at a med center in Alderaan,” Kanan planned. “We’ll need our best pilot in good condition if the supplies are getting through the blockade.”

“Alderaan’s counting on us to help their neighbors in need,” Hera agreed. “You’re right – I’ll admit it. I can’t run the blockade feeling like this.”

***

“Hera,” the medical droid read from a datapad, entering the waiting area.

As she departed, with a final remark about how this was just a stomach bug, and his concern was overdone, Kanan sat back with a smug smile, knowing full well that this was no such thing. The Force could not be wrong.

The woman seated to Kanan’s left was only a little older than Hera and was occupied keeping her four little boys from getting into trouble.

“Don’t touch that!” she hissed at one. “You’re going to get sick if you touch the same toys every other kid has coughed over.”

The little boy heeded the warning, but not before crash landing the toy starship hard into the table with a loud “VROOOM!” and series of explosive noises.

“Danny, stop!” the mother exclaimed, as she picked another, smaller child off the ground. “You can’t have candy that has been on the floor!” The child in the baby carrier was crying now, and from the sound of ripping pages, the other was terminating several of the magazines in the waiting room.

“I’m going to have a ship like this when I grow up,” the first child explained, to whoever might be listening.

Kanan smiled. “My wife is a pilot. I have lots of stories about starships.” Immediately, the two older boys turned their attention to the stranger and listened as he began to retell exciting stories of life in space, carefully editing out references to the Empire and the Rebel Alliance. He was so wrapped up in his storytelling, that he almost didn’t hear as Hera reentered the room and sat down quietly beside him.

Hera smiled, not wanting to interrupt the scene. He was busy painting her as the heroine of the story, which, overdone as it might be, was rather touching. She waited for a break in the narrative, and then gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey.”

Surprised, he slightly jumped. “Well?”

Hera responded by placing the positive pregnancy test in his open hand. “You know, I can already tell you’re going to be a good dad,” she smiled.


	8. Newest Family Member

“I want to be called Uncle Ezra,” the apprentice said thoughtfully, one evening, out of the blue. “Do you think it’ll be more of a blaster or lightsaber kind of kid?”

Hera laughed.

“It would be in the kid’s own best interest _not_ to be Force-sensitive,” Kanan said more seriously. “It’s hard enough for you and I hold off the red blades, but a youngling . . .”

“I remember,” Ezra responded. Saving the younglings from the inquisitors was a mission burned deep into his memory.

The Ghost crew were in the dining area sharing a meal. Zeb was a fast eater and enjoyed using his extra time at the end of the meal to bicker with Chopper. He stopped the banter for a moment to interject, “Please don’t tell me we’re going to turn this place into a nursery!” He rolled his eyes.

“Actually I was hoping you’d help us convert one of the bunks in the spare quarters into a crib for baby Ja–” began Kanan and stopped suddenly.

“Do tell us the name!” Sabine begged, catching the mistake. She leaned forward in anticipation, both elbows on the table and hands clasped eagerly together.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to tell them a bit early,” Hera glanced at Kanan, “as the baby could be coming in a matter of weeks.”

“Your call.”

“It’s a boy,” Hera announced, “and his name is going to be Jacen Caleb Jarrus.”

“I won!” Zeb exclaimed, “You owe me ten credits, Ezra Bridger!”

“Hey, no fair!” Ezra shouted, departing the table abruptly to chase Zeb down the hall with the nearest serving utensil he could find.

“I think we may also need to sound-proof the nursery,” Hera sighed.

“I’ll paint it,” Sabine decided. “At last I know what colors to use.”

***

Hera began to feel the first contractions as she was descending into the Lothal atmosphere, flying the Phantom. Her mission was simply to deliver a load of supplies to the Lothal rebels in exchange for the latest intel from Ryder. It was supposed to be a quick there-and-back trip, but as Hera began the landing, she realized that, although two weeks early, the time had come.

“Spectre One,” she transmitted, “do you copy?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to need a pickup. Spectre Seven is on the way.”

It was the first time she’d referred to their baby with his code name, and it took Kanan’s breath away. “Can you land safely?”

“I always do.”

“We’re coming. Hang tight!”

It was a bumpy landing, but Hera mustered the last of her strength to bring the ship to a halt, braking hard so that they didn’t careen over the rocky ledge where they found themselves. Safely parked, Hera informed Ryder’s team of her arrival and let Chopper handle the rest as she gritted her teeth and tried to get to a more comfortable position.

***

“Almost – keep pushing with the contractions and it won’t be long,” the helpful local woman reassured Hera. “There’s more medicine in the –”

“No, it’s fine,” Hera groaned. “I can manage.” She squeezed Kanan’s hand a little tighter as the next contraction came. She was probably cutting off his circulation. “Sorry, I – ow!”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he responded, though he kind of wished he could substitute the now tired hand for his good one.

It was not long before the much awaited moment arrived. As baby Jarrus emerged, all present, except of course for Hera, who was not having a very easy time, held their breaths in awe.

“He has green hair,” whispered Ezra rather too loudly from where he was standing with the rest in a corner of the room away from the medical proceedings.

“Shhh . . . or I’ll dye yours green,” Sabine hissed.

Then baby Jacen began to cry and the room was turned upside down for the time.

It was a while before Hera was through her second set of contractions, but by that time the baby was clean and wrapped in a spare blanket that had been used to cover the supplies Hera was delivering. He was calm now and content to be in his mother’s arms.

“He’s so . . . small,” Hera commented.

“I wish I could see him,” Kanan whispered, already running his fingers through his son’s hair. “What does he look like?”

“His hair is green,” Hera echoed Ezra’s earlier statement, “and his skin is like yours with a hint of mine.”

“He has Cham’s ears,” Kanan confirmed, feeling that they narrowed to a point on top.

“And your eyes,” Hera added. “Bright teal.”

“He’s perfect.” He was silent for a moment, taking it all in.

Baby Jacen was calm as he lay in his mother’s arms. Though he was wrapped warmly in a small blanket, he moved the blanket’s hem and extended a tiny arm through the opening, reaching up towards his father’s face.

Hera was certain her little son wanted a finger to grab and hold and was about to suggest that Kanan provide one. But as the baby slowly closed his eyes, extended the arm, and spread his fingers apart she recognized something familiar about the gesture. Something Kanan had done before, perhaps? It was definitely a Jedi maneuver, she decided, feeling a rush of excitement as she realized the baby had probably inherited his father’s abilities.

She opened her mouth to mention this to Kanan, but from the expression on his face, she realized that he had already become aware of the situation. His eyes, previously closed, began to open. But to Hera’s surprise –

“You missed a detail,” Kanan commented, a grin spreading over his face. “He’s got your smile.”

“Kanan?” Hera gasped as she looked into his eyes. Their bright teal color from before Malachor had returned, not a trace of cloudiness left. As he gazed back, she could see unshed, happy tears glinting there. “It’s so good to see your smile again. I love you, Hera,” he said, enveloping both wife and child in a warm hug.

“And I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my fans who have read, commented, and left kudos on this work! If you have enjoyed this work, the story continues in my next work "Steps Out of Shadow."


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